In My End Is My Beginning
by Batsutousai
Summary: 'The past is but the beginning of a beginning, and all that is and has been is but the twilight of the dawn.' -Herbert George Wells


**Title:** _In My End Is My Beginning_  
 **Fandom:** _Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood_ /manga  
 **Author:** Batsutousai  
 **Rating:** Mature  
 **Pairings:** Edward Elric/Slave 23, May Chang/Alphonse Elric (mentioned)  
 **Warnings:** Father/son kiss, time travel (or is it?), Ed's potty mouth, violence  
 **Summary:** _'The past is but the beginning of a beginning, and all that is and has been is but the twilight of the dawn.'_ -Herbert George Wells

 **Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Arakawa Hiromu and various publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

 **A/N:** For FMA Rarepair Week on tumblr. Today's prompts included _Beginning_

The people who started this madness know EXACTLY who they are.

You can also read this at Archive of Our Own, tumblr, or LiveJournal.

-0-  
-0-

It all started with what, at the time, Ed thought had been a relatively harmless comment: "I wish I knew more about the kind of person Hohenheim had been."

Al made some crack about Ed maturing, Ed threatened to brain him with the closest object to hand, Al laughed, Ed attempted it, and was soundly subdued by his brother.

The comment was forgotten by both of them, but not, as it turned out, by May.

-0-

"Edward, I have brought you a spiritual medium!" May announced one afternoon, while he was trying to find something to do that _wasn't_ offering unwarranted commentary on Ling's _ridiculous_ robes. (Lan Fan had kicked him out and promised grievous harm if he tried returning while Ling was handling matters of state; from anyone else, that would have been an invitation to push them just for the sheer amusement factor. From Lan Fan... Ed knew better than to push her.)

Ed turned to shoot her a flat look. "The actual fuck," he settled on, once he felt she'd suffered his stare long enough.

She rolled her eyes and stepped closer, an older man following close behind with an absent sort of smile on his face. "You said you wanted to know more about who your father was, did you not?"

Ed opened his mouth to insist he hadn't, before it occurred to him that, actually, yeah, he kind of had. But then he shook his head and snorted. "So what? He's _dead_ , May; we both know you can't bring the dead back to life."

May sighed. "That doesn't mean you can't _commune_ with the dead."

"Bullshit mystical mumbo-jumbo," Ed retorted. "Aren't you supposed to be a scientist?"

May cast her eyes up, as though asking some higher power for patience – Ed was fairly certain she'd stolen that from Al – for a moment, before looking back at him and saying, "I'm an alkahestrist, which involves – as you're so fond of pointing out – a great deal of 'pseudo-science'."

...he had said that, hadn't he?

"If you're so certain it's bollocks, you won't mind giving it a try, right?" May continued, and her smile said she was goading him.

Ed wanted to tell her where to shove it, but he suspected her next attempt would be to call him a coward – it was how she and Al had got him to try the weirdest-looking dishes at meals, as well as wearing Xingan-style clothing – and he really fucking hated when she did that. So he scowled, crossed his arms over his chest, and snapped, " _Fine_. I'm going to enjoy rubbing this failure in your face later."

She just smiled and turned to murmur to the man who'd been following her. He stepped past her before she'd finished talking, and set about telling Ed to find a comfortable position to relax into – Ed laid down on the garden bench he'd been sitting on, figuring he could take a nap, if it came to it – then wandered around him in a circle, chanting and waving his hands a bit.

Ed rolled his eyes, yawned, and let his eyes fall closed to take that nap.

-0-

"Hey! Hey, you! You alive?" someone called, while something shoved at his shoulder.

Ed opened his eyes to glare, only to have to close them again because, holy fuck, that sun was _bright_. And since when was _that_ a problem, anyway?! Half the reason he liked the fucking gardens was because, unless the sun was directly overhead, the plants lining the path were plenty high enough to block out the sunlight, and it had been well past that time of day when May had brought her mystic out to him. " 'Course I'm fucking alive, ya moron."

"I'm not a moron!" the person snapped, and there was something weirdly familiar about that voice.

Ed shaded his eyes with one hand and took another shot at opening his eyes.

There was a distinct lack of green things, which was his first clue that he wasn't in the gardens any more. The pale yellow of the walls around him suggested he wasn't anywhere in the Imperial Palace any more. The improbably-golden hair of the guy standing over him, backlit by the sun, suggested something seriously fucked up was going on.

"What. The. _Fuck_?" he demanded, shoving his free hand against the ground so he could sit up.

Was that...sand?

He turned to stare back at the ground, disbelieving.

That was sand, alright.

"How are you in my master's home?" the looming moron asked.

"Do I look like I have _any_ idea where the fuck I am, you idiot?"

"Stop _calling_ me that, you little–!"

Ed shoved himself to his feet and rounded on the guy, snarling, "Who're you calling so fucking tiny–"

He stopped, staring disbelievingly into eyes the same colour as his own, in a face that was familiar like an old nightmare: The Dwarf in the Flask.

Ed stumbled back a step, managed to snarl a " _You_!" before his throat closed up, choked with memories of desperate fear.

"Me?" the other said, looking more confused than angry. "Have we...met before?"

 _Expressions_ , Ed recognised, swallowing down the old fear. Expressions meant emotions meant vices; this wasn't the Dwarf in the Flask, couldn't be. (Was too dirty and thin, anyway. And his hair was back, like Hohenheim had always done.)

Hadn't Hohenheim said the Dwarf in the Flask'd made a copy of his body? Used his DNA to replicate a body for himself, a body that had gone younger when he'd swallowed the planet's Gate, which would mean it had probably been what his father had looked like when he was younger. "You're...Hohenheim?" he asked a bit uncertainly.

"Who?" the guy said, scratching at his check and looking even more confused. "I'm just a slave. I don't know no Hoenhais or whatever."

'Just a slave'? Ed stared a bit disbelievingly at the man, before it occurred to him that this must be Hohenheim _before_ meeting the Dwarf in the Flask. Useless. Unimportant.

Something a little mean curled in Ed's chest, and he smirked a bit, couldn't resist saying, "So you _are_ an idiot, then, is what you're saying."

"Stop calling me that!" Hohenheim shouted, waving an angry hand at him. "I'm lots smart!"

"Not if you think that sentence was grammatically correct," Ed couldn't resist pointing out.

Hohenheim sort of stared at him in disbelief for a moment, before something nasty crossed his face, so completely _out of place_ , and he said, "At least I'm not _shor_ –"

"I will punch you in the fucking face if you don't fucking shut–"

"Short temper?" Hohenheim asked, looking almost proud of himself.

Ed didn't let him enjoy his stupid joke, just rushed at the bastard, and punched him in the face, as promised.

Hohenheim hit the ground with a shout, and glared up at Ed, even as he licked at the blood dripping from his nose. "That's _it_ ," he hissed, before shoving himself up and trying to swing at Ed.

Ed dodged him with a snort; it was clear Hohenheim had no fighting training, because his form was _shit_. "Wow," he couldn't resist saying, remembering his father's irritating perfection. "Is there _anything_ you're good at?"

"Shut up!" Hohenheim shouted, trying to punch him again.

Ed leant back a bit, out of the way, and watched with no small amount of amusement as Hohenheim overbalanced, attempted to windmill his arms to regain his balance, and still hit the dirt. "You really _are_ an idiot, aren't you?"

Hohenheim mumbled something against the dirt not making any attempts to get up.

Ed stared at him for a moment, then sighed and – feeling a little bad about picking on someone who was _clearly_ his lesser – stepped over and knelt next to the idiot. "Come on, up y–"

Hohenheim took the chance and grabbed the hand Ed held down to him, using it to pull him forward while rolling out of the way. "Ha! Now who's the idi–?!"

Ed got his free hand under himself and – with a bit of extra help from his legs – pushed up and flipped backward over Hohenheim, landing solidly on his far side. Then he twisted and raised an eyebrow down at where the idiot was still lying.

Hohenheim's eyes had gone wide with disbelief. "How'd you do that?"

"Practice," Ed returned drily. "Idiot."

Hohenheim let out a furious sound and raised his arm to – Ed could only assume – sweep Ed's feet out from under him. Except he slammed his wrist into the automail and let out a shout of pain while yanking his arm to his chest and turning away.

"I think I'm actually embarrassed to be related to this moron," Ed muttered to himself, shaking his head.

"Why're you even _here_?!" Hohenheim complained, sounding a little like he was maybe crying. " _Everyone_ knows Master's not in town right now."

Ed snorted and stepped around the idiot, crouching down in front of him and, yup, there were tears on his face. "Agreed to one of my sister-in-law's stupid ideas," he admitted, before reaching out and stopping just before touching the wrist Hohenheim was holding tight to his chest. "Let me see that, won't you? Need to check if it's broken."

"It's _fine_ ," Hohenheim snapped and, oh, Ed knew that 'determined to ignore the pain because I'm a stubborn idiot' tone of voice from himself; that was fucking _creepy_.

"Uh-huh," Ed returned with his best unimpressed stare. "Only idiots ignore potentially broken bones."

That was clearly the best thing to say, as Hohenheim thrust his wrist toward Ed, wincing as he bumped it into Ed's reaching hand.

Ed sighed and gently took it, then carefully bent it, just a little bit. When that didn't result in a howl, he sighed a bit, relieved. "Just bruised, then," he determined, before reaching past Hohenheim's wrist to his elbow and tugging gently. "Up, come on. You got ice around here somewhere?"

Hohenheim gave him a blank stare, even as he followed Ed's lead in standing. "I'm a slave."

Ed blinked, confused. "So?"

"Slaves aren't important enough for ice."

"Bollocks on that," Ed snapped. "Your master's some sort of awesome fucking alchemist, isn't he?"

"Y-yes?"

"Then he can just fucking transmute that shit. Not so fucking precious _now_ , is it? Where's the fucking kitchen?"

"You can make ice with alchemy?" Hohenheim breathed, his eyes wide.

Ed just sort of had to stop and stare at him for a moment, because he'd learnt the array for freezing water from one of Hohenheim's own fucking journals. The whole thing was fucking _surreal_ ; he was going to have to find some way to make May _miserable_ soon as he fucking woke up, because this weird-arse dream was all because of _her_. "Of _course_ you can. Fuck's sake, it's just a basic temperature change. That's like, the most basic of basic."

"Are you an alchemist?" Hohenheim asked, his expression weirdly delighted.

"The _kitchen_ ," Ed snarled, the old, familiar feeling of loss making his words sharp.

Hohenheim flinched and hunched in on himself a bit, and Ed almost flinched himself, because it was just _wrong_ to see his father being _afraid of him_.

But the words of apology were too unfamiliar, and he couldn't get them to form before Hohenheim turned away, quietly saying, "This way, please."

Well, he could get Hohenheim ice. That would totally count as an apology, right?

(He could almost hear Al's hopeless sigh.)

"Number twenty-three?" a woman asked as Ed followed Hohenheim through a door into what appeared to be a kitchen. "What are you doing–? Oh!" She and the other woman in the room both ducked their heads toward Ed. "Forgive our rudeness, Honoured Guest."

Ed blinked at that, thrown. He opened his mouth to ask at the weird show of deference, then stopped himself, because, well, 'honoured guest' meant he could probably get that ice for his idiot of a father. Right?

That said, how did 'honoured guests' act? And did it even actually fucking matter if Ed bowed to expectations? Hohenheim hadn't really seemed to care. But, then, Hohenheim had also led Ed goad him into throwing punches, so...

Hohenheim and the two women were looking at him while trying not to be obvious about it, and Ed shook his head at himself, put on his best haughty air – stolen from Mustang, so it was certain to be effective – then said, "I require some ice."

The women traded uncertain looks, then the one who had greeted Hohenheim said, "We don't have the key for the ice box, Honoured Guest. The master keeps it on himself."

Ed was doing his best _not_ to start weighing the pros and cons of punching their master in the face.

Well, there were always his lock picks – a quick check showed that, yes, they were in the pocket inside his tangzhuang (because he'd only needed to get trapped in a locked room without them once to figure out _that_ necessity) – so he ordered, "Show me."

The women traded uncertain looks again, but didn't actually say anything as the talkative one nodded and led the way over to a small iron box shoved against one corner. "Here."

Ed knelt in front of it as he eyed the lock, then pulled out his lock picks, deciding it shouldn't be too hard to break into.

Hohenheim and both women let out shocked noises, but none of them tried to stop him, and it didn't take Ed long to trick the lock and open the door. (He couldn't say if that was because it was just that simple a lock, he was better than he thought, or this dream decided to play on his side, which would be rather uncharacteristic of his subconscious.) Inside was a massive block of ice with bits chipped off, and a sharp stick that Ed suspected was intended for breaking off pieces. "Cloth?" he requested, as he slipped his lock pick supplies away.

A square of cloth was handed down to him, and Ed chipped off a reasonable amount of ice, then looked over at Hohenheim as he flipped the corners of the cloth over to cover it. "Here. Put this on your wrist."

"But, Honoured Guest–!" the woman who hadn't spoken yet complained.

Ed raised an eyebrow at her as Hohenheim shuffled over and obediently took the ice. "How about I trade little chips of ice for both of your silence?" he suggested, because fairness and all that. Or something.

The women traded wide-eyed looks, then both nodded, so Ed chipped them each off a bit of ice, then closed the door of the box and checked to ensure it was locked while they let out delighted noises. (Go figure; only in the desert would ice be some sort of delicacy.)

Hohenheim motioned that they should return outside, so Ed got up and followed him, not really having anywhere else to go. Once back out in the sunlight, Hohenheim turned to frown at him, hurt wrist held tight against his chest, his other hand covering the cloth of ice, as though he was half expecting it to be taken away. "Who are you?" he demanded, and while it was clear he'd intended it to come out with an air of authority, he just sounded afraid. "A thief?"

"Not a very good one, as many people as have seen my face," Ed couldn't resist pointing out.

Hohenheim made a face at that.

Ed shrugged. "M' name's Ed. Just come to visit you." Well, thrown into a dream where he met his father. Who, actually, when he thought about it, was way more of an idiot than he'd expected. Guess his subconscious'd formed its own opinions about the bastard.

"Visit...me?" Hohenheim repeated, looked so utterly confused. "But, _why_? I'm just a slave."

Something in Ed's chest squeezed and he crossed his arms over his chest, scowling. "So fucking _what_?" he demanded. "Doesn't make you any less a person."

Hohenheim just sort of stared at Ed. Almost as though he couldn't believe he existed.

Ed had to look away, uncomfortable at the staring. "Gonna fucking _murder_ May for this shit."

Something touched his shoulder, and it was an honest struggle to keep from reacting with violence as he turned to look, which was the only excuse he had for how Hohenheim managed to plant a kiss on him.

 _He's not very good at this,_ was Ed's first thought, followed almost immediately by, _MY FATHER IS KISSING ME, WHAT THE FUCK?!_

He yanked himself away, stumbling back a step and staring back at Hohenheim's startled look for one, long moment, before he spun and ran for the opening that he hoped led out onto the street or something, desperately pinching himself and whispering, "Wake up, wake up, wake the _fuck_ up!"

Everything sort of swirled dizzily around him, and Ed squeezed his eyes shut to combat a rush of nausea. When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on the bench in the gardens of the Imperial Palace.

He stared at the familiar bushes for a long moment, struggling to keep from touching his lips – they tingled; some sort of psychosomatic reaction bullshit – and mentally beating his subconscious into a pulp, because _no fucking way_ he'd ever want to kiss his bastard of a father! That was fucked up! He needed a fucking scrub brush for his fucking brain. Possibly some sort of highly acidic compound, too.

This was _May's_ fault.

He pushed himself up, intending to go hunt her down and break something, only for Al to step into the little corner of the gardens Ed'd been napping in, wearing a fond smile. "There you are! May said she found a way for you to visit Dad?"

Oh, _fuck_. Ed let out an angry snarl and shoved himself to his feet. "Dreams," he snapped, glaring at his brother, "are just scenes thrown together by your subconscious, based on facts and your own impressions of a particular subject. That is _not_ what I was fucking talking about, and I'm going to fucking _murder_ your fiancée."

Al let out a loud sigh. "Brother, you're the most impossible person I know."

"The fuck's _that_ supposed to mean?!"

Al just shook his head and turned away. "Just that this is the third time I've walk through this clearing looking for you."

Ed–

Stopped.

"What?" he said, but Al was already vanishing into the maze.

Ed frowned and finally gave in to the urge to touch his lips. Was Al fucking with him? It wouldn't be the first time, especially as a way to keep Ed from starting something with May. But, his own words...

He'd only ever seen Xerxes as ruins, had no idea how their clothing looked, save the weird robe thing the Dwarf in the Flask had been wearing the first time he'd met the fucker. But the buildings, the clothing, everything in that dream...

 _Had_ it been a dream?

Ed shook his head, torn between his own disbelief in mystical bullshit, and not wanting to believe he had some sort of subconscious wish to kiss Hohenheim.

The only way to know would be to beat it out of May, he finally decided, and left to hunt her down.

.


End file.
